How’re oo goin’ on? The wife is always mad for the new thing, I’d usually let her off because the alternative is a list of things that need doing around the house and I’d rather go to Mallow on my holidays than get involved with that carry on. Unfortunately she has crossed a line in recent days in a manner that threatens to undermine my very way of life. Long story short, she’s after falling in with the lactose intolerant crowd below in Bantry and has decided we have to give up the old milk. That’s awkward craic for a dairy farmer like myself but that’s only the start of it. It’s a well known fact in West Cork that drinking black tea is a sign that you are in league with the devil. I’ll be a laughing stock inside in Dunmanway and you know you’ve gone wrong somewhere in life when that shower of yahoos are looking down on you. I told the wife this and she said that I should look at almond milk and I said I might as well look at walking naked down the town with a sign on my back saying “I am a complete tool”. She’s not budging anyway and it looks like I will have to move to a more progressive town where black tea is an option. Where should I move to at all?
Hello it’s Rosealeen here in Ballydesmond. This skinny young one arrived into town in a BMW convertible the other day, we were all going “what does she want now?” and Berna hit the nail on the head when she said; “well a good plate of bacon and spuds would be a decent place to start”. Anyway, didn’t she put a thing up on the local Facebook page, What’s the Sca in Ballydesmond, saying that she wanted something called Facetime with local women in the hall to discuss something that could make us a few quid? Off we all went anyway and what was her scheme only that she owns a lingerie company for rural women and she wanted some real-life models for the website, because bog women would be put off by skinny malink models from Dublin who have a kiwi for their tea. (Not her words, but we knew what she meant.) Berna put her name down straight away, she has zero shame, a lot of her family come from Boherbue. I can hear my mother’s voice going “you’re a disgrace to the family Rosealeen from Ballydesmond”, mainly because she’s still alive and she says it at least once a week. Do you think I should sign up, tell me?
It’s getting evil on our WhatsApp group, Douglas Road Stunners Whose Bank Holiday BBQ is Better than Yours. Fifi_LoveHaloumi said they’re having friends over, a really high net worth couple who buy flip-flops in Penneys just to make it crystal clear they don’t care what anyone thinks about them. Claire_3GrandSandals said they’re flying in a Maverick Pitmaster barbecue from just outside Dallas called Smokin’, he’s going to do a whole hoglet for them, try and not feel jealous when the smell wafts over your place, beeatches — that’s literally what she said. We’re a bit short of money this year because My Ken didn’t realise that Bitcoin is for eejits and between yourself and myself, it’s either spend 8 grand on a bank holiday barbie, or else take our Hugo out of Christians. I’ll get shunned by the Douglas Road Stunners either way, but I’m just wondering what’s the right thing to do?
C’mere, why doesn’t my cat like me? I’ve done everything for her — called her Hoggy after Patrick Horgan, didn’t kick up a fuss when she refused to eat cat food from Lidl, never posted a video of her on Instagram that makes her look like a gowl, the works. And she just sits there every night, giving me the stink eye, as if I was from the southside or followed Man U. The problem is I’m weak for her — all I want is a little bit of affection back in return. Is that too much to ask for?
